Good Riddance
by Nara Ganmi
Summary: One thing you can count on is that hearts change. But sometimes this change is hard to accept, especially when you've been with them since third grade. StEndy to StYle, both minor


(A/N) Hey guys, sorry not to post anything in so long. I kinda… lost heart for His Flower and 26, sorry. I might post in the future, and heck, I might even redo His Flower entirely. But until then, enjoy my current fandom; SOUTH PARK!

**DISCLAIMER: I don't own South Park, or Good Riddance (a song by Green Day which inspired this). If I did, well, I wouldn't be sitting here writing this fic, now would I?**

**Good Riddance**

I felt my shoulder's slump a bit at her repeated statement. "What?" I murmured once more, that one word seeming to be the only thing I could say. The dark-haired girl in front of me's eyebrows met.

"Damn it Stan," Wendy frowned, "Can't you listen the first time?" her expression softened from that of an angry girlfriend, to one of a caring sister. "I can't do this anymore."

I lifted my eyes to hers, knowing the emotion displayed in them broke her heart. "Stan…" she sighed and cast her eyes sideways. "I'm sorry. I love you, but not like that."

"Then why did you go out with me?" my lips spoke, although I hadn't made them. I felt nothing but my own sadness. It consumed me, I was frozen in that one time, or at least, my heart and mind were. My instincts were taking over, and pretty soon I would be on my knees crying.

"Because…" Wendy faltered, "Because I thought I could love you like that." I felt my heart break even more. "It wasn't some kind of pity acceptance, far from it. I knew I liked you, so I gave it a chance. As it turns out, it's more of a family love." My eyes turned to my shoes, seemingly caught in the effects of gravity, and I gave up fighting. I felt hot water begin to well up, and I didn't care. I didn't care if it made me seem like a girl, or a gay, or a queer, or a fag, not that I have anything against them. They're my feelings, and I'll be damned if I can't express them when I want.

"Stan…" Wendy's soft voice murmured, and she put a hand to my cheek. "Look at me…" She pulled my face up, not without my help, so I was looking her in the eye. "I'm sorry." She whispered, then turned away, removing her gloved hand from my face. "I'll see you at school…" were her last words to me as she walked away, leaving me standing beside Stark's Pond, in the dark, with a heavy cloud cover. And since God forbid I have a good day today, said heavy cloud cover decided to let loose, showering me with accumulated tears that mimicked my own.

I stood there for a while, letting myself become drenched in water. After a few minutes, something hard hit my shoulder. I glanced over to check out what it was, when another one hit my head. And another. And another. Soon, I was being pelted not only by rain, but by small, button-sized pieces of hail.

"Shit…" I mumbled, before taking off running in the direction of my house.

As I ran, both the hail and rain got fell harder and faster, making me feel as if I was being stoned, like in the old times. I willed my legs to move faster, which they did, to an extent. Not long after, I managed to slip over a patch of partly frozen water, landing me flat on my back with a sore ass, a broken heart, and hail bombarding me in the face—and everywhere else for that matter.

"DAMN IT!!!" I yelled, half-propped up on my elbows. "_This_ is how I'm being punished?" Now sobbing, I tried to stand, only to slip once more and land on my hands and knees. After sitting there for a minute, letting all my feelings out in the form of tears, punches, and a few choice curse words, I felt myself calming down to a bearable level.

That's when I realized where I was. The familiar tree, a light on in the second story window with countless books stacked on the sill—this was all the information I needed. Standing tentatively and wiping away the water on my face, I took careful, calculated strides to the front door. I glanced at my watch. 10:13. I sighed and fixed my hat and jacket before knocking on the door to the house.

"I got it!" a faint, high, yet distinctly male voice called from inside, and I allowed myself a smile. Even now at sixteen, his voice hadn't dropped as much as the rest of ours had, and that's how it would likely stay. But despite Cartman's ever-present taunting, he always held through, settling for a "shut up, fatass" or maybe a brawl depending how far Cartman took it, but _never_ did he question his own masculinity.

The door swung open, revealing the disheveled red-head himself. "Stan?" he uttered confusedly, pulling off his reading glasses as if they were causing him to hallucinate.

"Hey…" I grinned sheepishly. Kyle stared at me for a moment, before the fact I was _soaking wet_ and probably _freezing to death_ sunk in.

"Oh my God, Stan!" He quickly pulled me from the rain and ripped my hat and coat off. "What the _hell_ do you think you were doing? Going outside in such weather… Are you suicidal?!" Kyle, unwilling to wait for an answer, grabbed me by the wrist and practically dragged me up the stairs and into his room.

"Strip." He commanded, and I raised my eyebrows.

"Gee, Kyle, I had no idea you were so _eager_." I grinned playfully and Kyle rolled his eyes.

"Just do it. You're already going to catch a cold," he explained, "might as well not make it the flu." I nodded and obediently began shedding my clothes as he searched his cluttered closet for some suitably warm attire.

My shirt fell to the floor, becoming engulfed in the ever-present mess, and my pants did the same. It was a wonder Kyle could find anything in here. As I stared down at where my clothes _should _be, I found that I was no longer able to see that spot, as it had, in fact, been blocked by aforementioned male pushing a small mound of clothes in my direction.

"Do me a favor," He said, "And get dressed. You're not proving anything by parading around in those gay boxers." Kyle gestured down towards my soaking went undergarments, and I blushed, remembering that I had just happened to put on the rainbow striped pair my mom had found oh-so-cute.

"Right…" I mumbled, pulling on the outfit he had laid out for me. "They were my mom's fault." Kyle smirked as he observed my progress.

"Of course they were." He teased, and I glared back, sending him into a fit of muffled laughter.

"Laugh it up, Kyle," I pulled the shirt over my head, "We'll see who's laughing when your mom asks if you have a girl in here again." Kyle immediately stopped and glared at me, and I smirked good-naturedly, remembering that instance.

"You wouldn't." Kyle's eyes widened a fraction, and my smirk grew to a full out grin. He took a step back, and I pounced on him, wiggling my fingers across his stomach and over his sides, forcing Kyle into giggles.

"STAN!!!" He complained through laughs, and I began laughing myself at his expression and the way he squirmed. I could care less that it was childish.

"Say Uncle!" I called, and Kyle shook his head vehemently, still laughing insanely. "Say Uncle!" I repeated and moved my fingers faster.

"Uncle!" He gasped between giggles, and I stopped tickling him and pinned his hands down beside his head, still straddling his waist, as he panted desperately for breath. "I hate you…" Kyle smiled to show he was joking, and I smiled back.

"So Kyle," I began, "Are you gonna be a good boy and not make fun of the gay boxers my mom forces me to wear," My grin turned evil. "Or will I need to convince you some more?"

"NO!" Kyle laughed, trying to pull his hands from my grasp.

"Good," I said, releasing his arms from my grasp, "Because I'm not sure how much more _I _would have been able to endure." Kyle shot a playful glare at me, realizing he had just been tricked. I pulled my self off of him, and held out a hand to aid him. He shook his head and attempted to push himself up, only to find that he was now entangled by the mess on his floor.

"Dammit!" Kyle mumbled, wiggling around, attempting to find a way out. I rolled my eyes before grabbing his wrists once more and yanking hard upward, freeing him from the clutches of various clothes articles. "Thanks…" he muttered, before pulling his hands away and sitting down cross-legged on his bed. I sat down beside him, using my toes to push my still-present socks off.

"So…" I said, pulling my arms behind my head, waiting for a conversation to spark.

"Aren't you supposed to be out with Wendy right now?" Kyle asked bluntly, and turned his head to me, curiosity evident in his eyes. I turned my gaze to my feet. Wendy… She had slipped my mind. I had been to busy with Kyle to even remember.

"Dude," I said casually, attempting to keep the rising sadness out of my voice, "The date ended a while ago."

"…Stan, what's wrong?" Obviously I didn't do a good enough job. But then again, this is _Kyle _talking. There's almost nothing I can hide from him. "What happened?"

"Nothing," I lied, "Nothing happened."

"Then why are you crying?" It was then that I realized that I was, in fact, crying. I could feel my hands trembling, and the hot salt water stung my cheeks.

"I- She-" I stuttered, and felt Kyle wrap his arms around me in a comforting hug. I couldn't take it.

I gave in to my sadness and allowed my tears to flow freely down my face, thankful for the fact that Kyle was with me. He didn't ask any more questions, he sat there, hugging me, waiting for the waterworks to run their course. My tremors became more violent, and I clung to Kyle's arms as if they were lifelines. I felt weak and helpless, but that all melted away through my tears. My sorrow left as well, leaving me with nothing but the ever-flowing tears and the comfort of having my super best friend to keep me from the brink of insanity. Kyle tightened his grip on me, and I could tell he knew the effect. His hand brushed tentatively over my hair, and my neck stopped holding my head up, causing my temple to hit his shoulder gently.

"Stan…" Kyle murmured, "Don't worry about Wendy…" It was amazing how he could tell what was wrong, it was like this bond we had. Our super best friend bond. Even through problems like taking care of that stupid egg in fourth grade, or Kyle's hemorrhoid, we stuck through it all, and, hell, those probably made our bond stronger. "She's being an insensitive bitch again… Right?"

Despite myself, I agreed. She claimed that she didn't want to hurt me (by implication), but did nonetheless. She _swore_ to me that she would never leave me, and look where I was now. I felt a swell of grief fill the hole that had just been emptied, and the tears came harder. _"I'll always love you, I'll never leave you." _What a two-faced liar. She wasn't worth my time, and yet here I was, in the arms of Kyle, sobbing gay-ly, over her leaving me.

"Stan…" Kyle's voice came calm, and caring, "Did, did she break up with you again?" I nodded against his chest, gasping out a quick sob.

Then for a while, everything was quiet, besides the occasional sniffle. We sat still, Kyle holding me as if I would shatter, and I clinging onto him for dear life. And as my tremors stopped, Kyle still held me, for which I was grateful. He tentatively stroked my head, and I gave no response.

"Are, are you okay now?" Kyle whispered, and I pulled my head from his grasp carefully, then looked him straight in the eyes.

"Yeah… I think so." I gave him a small smile, which he returned with a wider one that lit up his whole face. I chuckled. Kyle looked so ridiculous it was hard _not_ to laugh. His hat had slipped sometime during my breakdown, so it was hanging sideways off the side of his head, caught on the tight auburn curls that Kyle calls "hair." Kyle's grin was lopsided and looked a little dopey, especially with his glasses hanging down off of his ears at that odd angle. My chuckle turned into a laugh, which ended up in hysterics. And, as they say, laughter is contagious; Kyle was laughing right along side me.

Our laughs slowly died out, and I could hardly remember why moments before I had been crying. The only thing that I was aware of was my super best friend, still sitting closer than we normally would, and I felt the beginning of a rose blush creeping onto my face.

"Thanks, Kyle." I mumbled, slightly embarrassed at my unusual reaction to something so normal, but Kyle seemingly took no notice of it.

"No problem," He grinned, "It's what best friends are for."

"_Super_ best friends." I corrected, and he rolled his eyes, chuckling slightly.

"Yup, super best friends," He laughed, and I smiled back. After a few moments of companionable silence, he added to his statement, "Nothing'll change that, right?"

"Nothing." I confirmed, thinking nothing of the out-of-the-blue question, or the fact that he was a bit closer than before.

"Absolutely nothing?" Kyle repeated, and I frowned slightly as he moved even closer.

"Yeah, absolutely nothing." I enunciated everything to make sure he heard it this time.

"Not even this?" He muttered and pressed his lips to mine.

Fully astonished, I froze, letting Kyle kiss me for a moment. Then, as the full blow of what was occurring hit me, I pulled away from him, eyes wide with disbelief. His green orbs mirrored my shock, and we were both at an utter loss for words. I was confused and stunned, and what heightened these feelings was a simple fact.

It didn't feel wrong.

Of course, it didn't feel completely right either. For hell's sake, my best friend just _kissed _me. I have a right to be taken aback. But, of all the emotions swirling in my head, there was one that stood out from the rest, and it was what compelled my actions.

Kyle, still obviously stunned from the bombshell he just dropped, fixed his glasses and pulled his hat into its correct position. His thin fingers trembled slightly as he fidgeted, not unlike the actions of a girl, and he averted his eyes. The pale skin on his cheeks was stained crimson, adding to his slightly feminine demeanor.

"Uhh…" Kyle stuttered, "I, er, sorry. I don't know what came over me." For lack of anything better to do, I nodded, plus my senses didn't seem to be willing to cooperate. "…You hate me now, don't you?" he turned his head so I wouldn't see the tears threatening to spill over his flushed cheeks.

"No!" I gasped, "I could never hate you Kyle." I grabbed his chin and gently turned him back towards me, staring directly into his grief stricken emerald eyes. "I told you, nothing will change our friendship." I smiled comfortingly. "Not this, not Wendy, not anything."

Kyle smiled back feebly, and it was my turn to draw him into a caring hug. He tentatively wrapped his arms around my neck in a returning gesture, and I smiled to nobody in particular.

I felt complete for once in my life, like this was the way things were supposed to be. Just Kyle and me, supporting each other through anything and everything. Maybe in time, I could appreciate him the same way he appreciates me, but for now, I need time to heal, despite how much I feel I already have.

Going around in the circles I have with Wendy won't happen anymore. No more getting back together only to break the other's heart once more. One day, she'll find somebody perfect for her, just as I may have found someone perfect for me, but until then, I have one thing, meant in the most respectful way for her.

Good Riddance.


End file.
